


Provender

by luna65



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bedelia gets et, Cannibalism, M/M, Murder Husbands, post-S3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 10:45:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4743416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luna65/pseuds/luna65
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal and Will take Bedelia to Mexico for dinner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Provender

**Author's Note:**

> Also to be included in the would-be canon of Bedelia's Last Supper, though I take liberties with the time and place.

Though the situation was dire and the circumstances surreal, Will thought the look on Bedelia's face when she spotted his late entrance to her lecture-in-progress was priceless. After their chilly exchange post-performance he made an appointment and when he appeared she looked surprised once more.

"You're not hallucinating," he said, attempting the same deadpan Hannibal employed.

"Are you?" she asked in turn before turning to the sideboard and pouring herself a glass of wine.

 

"There is an abandoned archaeological site not far from here," Hannibal stated, as the inhabitants consumed the first dinner in their temporary hacienda.

"Why abandoned?" Will asked.

"They found evidence of a drastic change in the diet of the people residing in this region, the local authorities did not wish to reveal the discovery."

"Let me guess," Bedelia broke in from the far side of the table. "Cannibalism."

Hannibal smiled his slight smile as he brought another forkful of _mole_ to his mouth. "Exactly."

Will chuckled. "Well your choice of assignation now makes further sense."

"I thought it might."

Bedelia seemed to be entranced with the reflection of the setting sun through the western-facing windows, shards of light refracted by the crystal glassware on the table, warmly illuminating the centerpiece of a brightly-painted _cazuela_ surrounded by a garland of variously-hued bougainvillea with several perfectly-preserved Monarch butterflies seeming to alight upon the edges of the blossoms.

"You must eat, Bedelia," Hannibal chided. "You simply _must_."

Bedelia stabbed an oyster and brought it to her mouth.

 

"So Bedelia, tell me when you first discerned Hannibal's culinary proclivities."

The other maintained her glacial remove as she sat before a midday repast meant to make her palatable: oysters on the half shell and puree of acorn, a cold broth infused with fruit and floral essences, a glass of marsala. If nothing else, Will admired her regal composure in all things, as a queen must not display unseemly emotion in the ongoing machinations of empires won and lost.

"When he lamented that we couldn't cut out the slanderous tongue of Neal Frank so he could prepare it in the traditional Basque fashion. He assured me it would have been delicious. And he stated it with such placid assurance that I knew it wasn't meant in spite or sardonic jest. After that I found reasons to decline his invitations to dinner."

"Hannibal's true ability is that he can make anything palatable."

Her ice-blue glance contained a sliver of _You're joking, right?_

"If you believe I am less familiar with that phenomenon than you are, you'd be wrong."

They had returned to their game, Will knew. They would taunt one another with evidence of their intimacy with Hannibal. But then she surprised him by looking at the door which led to the kitchen, as if she could see through it, observing Hannibal's preparations for the next of their meals together.

"Are you familiar with the works of Lovecraft?" she asked.

Will raised his eyebrows. "Some."

"It is not difficult to imagine Hannibal as an elder god, emerged from that cold eternity of space, with no regard for the creatures who dwell upon this speck of star-stuff strewn across the void with all the millions of other specks. We are provender for such beings. We cannot fathom their motivations, we can only feel their hunger."

"If he is such a being, he _can_ be damaged."

"You assume Hannibal is human. He is _mortal_ , but he is not human. And you are becoming more feral by the day. Remember, you were once also on the menu."

"Thanks to your psychic driving, Bedelia."

"I could not turn the knife back upon him, I could only empathize. If there was anyone I was aping, it was _you_. His desire for you was consuming him just as surely as he was planning to consume me."

"Do you wonder what he tastes like? Or do you already know?"

Her glare was cosmic radiation-grade deadly fire.

"Drink your broth, Bedelia," he murmured, his eyes providing another glimpse of the void she feared, but was already resigned to.

"Will he make it truly palatable, do you think?" She took a spoonful, then touched a finger to the hibiscus blossom floating upon the surface. "Or will he remind us of what we are doing?"

"What are we doing?"

"You are enacting your presumed place at the top of the food chain. I am merely witness to your _becoming_ , as you put it."

"Ready or not, here we come," Will whispered, then offered her a terrible smile.

"And if you believe that I thought I could escape, again, you'd be mistaken. That knowledge was hard-won, though ultimately futile to retain."

"I would never accuse you of ignorance, Bedelia."

She took the bowl of broth and gulped it down, then daintily dabbed at her lips with the heavy linen napkin so thoughtfully provided.

"You are his last duchess, Will. How long do you think before it's _your_ portrait upon the walls of his memory palace?"

"There are many portraits of me there already. And you as well, I imagine."

"Yes, but, they lead to a final image: our farewell kiss in Florence."

"When you taunted him with the promise of this moment."

She gave a slow blink, then sipped at her glass of wine. "It wasn't a taunt, only recognition of the inevitable. It was the polite thing to do."

Will laughed. "I think I will enjoy your flavor, no matter how long you've had to marinate."

"Of course you will, she is exquisite in all ways," Hannibal proclaimed, entering the dining room. He gave her a faintly scolding look. "Bedelia, please, finish your lunch, you need your strength for what is to come."

"And what part of _me_ will you feed to your cochlear garden?" she asked.

"I think...your heart, no? A proper sacrifice for those who feast upon the provender of the lowly hoard, to aid in their transformation. And then we will relish their digestion for ourselves."

"Time is running out, for both of you," she said, and her voice cracked just the slightest bit, that husky quavering tone Hannibal recalled so perfectly during their idyll.

"We're dead, and they knew you'd run. No one is looking for us." Will smiled again.

" _Presumed_ dead. I imagine I am presumed dead as well. But Hannibal, you are far too fascinating for anyone to remain merely presumptuous."

"Quite so," Hannibal noted, nodding with pleasure. "But I plan my dinner parties down to the last detail. There is plenty of time to savor you as you deserve, my dear Mrs. Fell."

Bedelia's hand rested upon the oyster fork, attempting to suppress the tremble it betrayed as she did so.


End file.
